


Personal Side Quests

by Syntaxeme



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arguing, Chaptered, Conflict, Developing Relationship, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaxeme/pseuds/Syntaxeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is less a story with a singular, unified plot and more a collection of instances that happen between or behind the scenes of the actual game. It looks closer into the relationship between the Inquisitor and Solas through (usually) brief glimpses at their "downtime" interactions.</p>
<p>Featuring: inadvertent (or completely intentional) teasing, memories of Arlathan, various arguments and various methods of resolving them, being "elfy," Elvish pet-names, and much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do I have your attention?

            “I never expected life in the Inquisition to be quite so glamorous,” Solas mused as he finished heating yet another bath. Although Allim’ir, the Herald, was a warrior herself and certainly no stranger to manual labor—not to mention being Dalish and therefore with significant survival experience—she had been asking his help for quite some time, rather than building a fire herself. He had two theories as to why. The first was connected to his observations of her surprisingly delicate nature: her careful steps to avoid crushing plant life, her admiration of Orlais’s rich dresses and fine jewels, even her simple insistence on bathing every day, regardless of how busy they’d been or how exhausted she was. He wondered if she might just prefer not to “get her hands dirty,” as it were.

            His second theory was somewhat more complex. After all, there were other heat sources, even other mages who would have been glad to help her. Yet she always came to _him_. In light of certain conversations they’d had of late, he was led to believe she had…other motivation for asking him. As he was considering the factors involved in her decision, he was brought out of his reverie by the sound of Allim’ir entering the room behind him.

            “Will there be anything else, my l…lady?” He tried to tease her a bit over her dependence on him for this task, but his train of thought all but derailed when he saw her, no longer covered by bulky armor—or, for that matter, by much at all. She was clothed in a simple robe and…presumably naked underneath. In the few weeks he’d been performing this service, he had never seen her in such a state of undress. He couldn’t help but notice, try as he might, that her feet were bare, as well; he could only look pointedly away so as not to stare.

            “No,” she answered cheerfully. “That should be all. _Ma serannas, lethallin_.”

            “ _Ma nuvenin_ ,” he answered almost automatically, as he’d grown used to doing. She walked past him as he made his way toward the door, still a bit dazed. He wasn’t sure whether his second theory had just been simplified or further complicated. Distracted, he paused near the doorway, perhaps debating on asking her plainly. Odd that he should be hesitant to request the truth, yet this matter felt…delicate.

            “Solas?” Her voice called his attention back, and he glanced up to find her watching him over her shoulder. She had untied the belt around her waist before realizing he hadn’t yet left, so she was simply holding the robe close around her. That left her shoulders bare, her hair pulled to one side and displaying her pale, green-tinted skin. Solas stiffened and immediately turned away. “Did _you_ need something?”

            “No. _Ir abelas_ ,” he muttered as he quickly strode from the room. She watched him leave in silence, only allowing her smile to show once she was sure he had fled. Well, she had been looking to gauge his reaction, and he hadn’t disappointed. At least she knew she had his attention; she would just have to be sure she kept it.


	2. A welcome distraction

            “Solas? I have—oh.” She paused, frowning as she saw he wasn’t in his usual area near the apothecary. Having lost a bit of her steam, she wandered downhill with his gift still in-hand. Varric was there by the fire, so she approached him. “Varric, have you seen Solas?”

            “Not since this morning. My guess is he’s looking for new places to ‘dream.’ Never met a guy who sleeps so much for _fun_ ,” he said. Seeing the pout on the Herald’s face, he tried being a bit more helpful: “Last I saw, he was headed to the Chantry; you might try looking there.”

            “I will. Thank you.” Encouraged by the new prospect, she did as Varric had suggested. It was no simple task to avoid both Josephine and Leliana, and she did feel a bit guilty about it—but she was on a quest, and an impromptu war meeting would have fouled it up. So she tried to draw on her people’s innate lightness on their feet, sneaking through room after room in search of her companion.

            Perhaps he didn’t _want_ to be found; he certainly hadn’t made it easy. Still, after searching for some time, as even her extensive patience was beginning to wear, she found a door that had been left just slightly ajar. It was enough of a lead to follow, so she did, discovering that it led to a flight of stairs. Up she went until she emerged in the Chantry’s bell tower. The high stone walls kept out much of the light from outside but little of the snow, as they opened near the top to display a shining copper bell.

            “Solas?” the Herald called, flinching as her voice echoed through the tall chamber. Wandering away from the door she’d come through, she tried again, more quietly. “Ahem. Solas? Are you up here…?”

            “I am.” She followed the sound of his voice to find him looking down at her from a platform presumably placed for a bell-ringer. “Though I am not sure why you are. Did you need something from me?”

            “No—I have something _for_ you,” she said, already climbing the wooden ladder up to join him. “Were you, er, dreaming?”

            “I was. This place is very old and holds some very interesting memories,” he said. “I thought it better to be somewhere…remote, so as not to disturb others or be disturbed. I apologize if my absence inconvenienced you.”

            “It’s all right.” He offered his hand as she reached the top, and taking it made her shiver; he was like ice! “I’m the one who should apologize for disturbing you. I’ll let you go back to it in a moment; I just wanted to give you this.” She offered her gift, a copper amulet, explaining as he accepted it, “It’s enchanted to keep you unnoticed. Ahem, so you’ll be safer.” He smiled at both the gift and the sentiment.

            “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.” He started to fasten it around his neck—but his stiff fingers couldn’t seem to properly manipulate the delicate clasp. “Hmph. My hands are a bit numb. Perhaps I should have chosen someplace warmer for my Fadewalking.”

            “Ha! And I thought mages’ hands were meant to be more skilled,” she laughed teasingly, taking the amulet from his hands. “Let me help, _da’len_.” Before he could tell her it wasn’t necessary, she stepped in close to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Hm. You’ll have to bend down so that I can see.” He did as she said so that she could lean her head over his shoulder, and somehow all his protests had fled his mind.

            “You realize this will cause more trouble for you,” he pointed out, trying to distract himself from her warmth in contrast to his frigid skin. “You do have a habit of putting yourself in danger for the safety of others.” On the one hand, it seemed foolish, as there were few who would return the favor, but on the other, the intent was admirable.

            “Do I? I hadn’t noticed. Though recently, the choice has more or less been made for me. Owning up to it is probably better for public relations,” she laughed. When she did, due to her nearness, her breath fell inadvertently on his ear, and he realized just how close her mouth was to it. The shiver that coursed through him wasn’t from the cold; in fact, he hardly noticed it at all anymore. His hands reflexively reached up to grab her arms, and she grew still for a moment. When he realized that she had accomplished her intended task, he used his hold on her to gently lead her away.

            “ _Ma serannas_ ,” he said distractedly, not looking her in the face.

            “ _Ma nuvenin_.” She noticed the sudden change in his attitude, of course, but she wasn’t sure what she had done to cause it. When he released her, she wasn’t quite sure what to do with her hands, so she found herself fidgeting a bit. “Well. I suppose I’ll let you go back to your dreaming. But I hope you won’t stay gone for too long.” With a final tentative smile, she went back down the ladder and into the Chantry.

            Solas paced back and forth on the platform for a bit, trying to calm his mind so as to enter the Fade without distraction. Yet even when he thought he had collected himself, he recalled the warmth of her body against his and her voice in his ear, and his conflicting emotions flared up again; at times, his gift for reliving memories so vividly felt more like a burden than a blessing. It was a bit frustrating, not being able to dream properly…but another part of him insisted that those few minutes with her were well worth the interruption.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating whether to post a picture of Allim'ir or to just let you guys put her together on your own.  
> Also, just to be clear, I've only played up to just past All New, Faded For Her, so if you comment, pleeease avoid spoilers. v.v


	3. Wounds mended

            Allim’ir cursed under her breath and removed her gloves, wincing as she did. The blasted things were still new, the leather too stiff; wearing them while swinging a heavy sword all day had rubbed her hands raw, even blistered them. Any time she tried to use them or even moved them the wrong way, pain seared through her palms again, and she had to bite back a growl of frustration. Normally, this was something for which she might have asked Solas’s help—but after their most recent conversation, she was reluctant to approach him at all.

            Apparently, she had made a grievous mistake when she had asked him for his thoughts on elven culture; he seemed to be predisposed against the Dalish on that subject, which had, of course, upset her. The more they’d talked, they more bothered each had become by the other’s views. Even if some of what he’d said had been insightful and interesting, she had been too irritated to admit it. They’d hardly spoken for the past two days, so she wasn’t inclined to go asking him for any favors.

            In an effort to relieve some of the pain, she washed her hands in cold water and tried to bandage them herself, which didn’t work quite as well as she’d hoped. She had lost patience and discarded the bandages when there was a knock at the door to her borrowed dwelling.

            “Yes?” she called, trying to disguise the edge in her voice. There was no answer for a moment, so she sighed and opened the door herself, cringing again. Outside, she found Solas standing still in debate of whether to stay or go.

            “Ah. Good evening,” he said, trying his best to take her sudden response in stride. “Forgive me for disturbing you, but I wondered if you might…be in need of assistance.” Well aware of the tension between them, she did her best to be professional in her response.

            “What gave you that impression?” she asked.

            “I simply noticed that you seemed to be in pain at dinner. Or perhaps I was misreading your expression. I thought it better to ask, just to be sure.” Curious that he should care so much, all things considered. Before she could brush his claims off, she noticed him gazing in concern at her hands and realized she’d been caught.

            “It’s nothing,” she said, showing him her shining, red palms. “My new gloves aren’t broken in yet. It may take some time, but they’ll get softer with use.”

            “And will that be before or after your hands have started to bleed from rawness…?” he asked, reaching for one of her hands to have a better look—but pulling away immediately when she hissed in pain. “I’m sorry. That was careless of me. If you like…I have a salve that could help. I could bring some for you.” Seeing her hesitation, he added, “It would only take a moment.”

            “…all right,” she agreed, then added reluctantly, “Thank you.”

            “It is no trouble at all. Just wait here,” he said, mindful enough to close the door himself so that she wouldn’t have to. Allim’ir wandered over to sit on her bed in thoughtful silence. He didn’t seem upset. In fact, he seemed to be trying to make amends. It was kind of him to offer without being asked. But then, in the time since they’d met, she hadn’t known him to be otherwise. When he returned, he knocked again, and she called for him to come in. He did so, intending to turn the salve over to her—but he quickly realized she might have a difficult time of it on her own.

            “Ah. Would you like me to…?” She nodded without looking at him, so he shut the door and brought over a chair to sit in front of her. He held out one hand, asking for hers, and she gave it to him tensely in anticipation of more pain. However, as soon as the medicine met her skin, it began to ease the pain immediately, cool and comforting against her sore palms. She let out a sigh of relief, and Solas smiled. “It helps, then?”

            “Yes. Very much.”

            “You could have asked for my help,” he pointed out. She didn’t respond; they both already knew why she’d hesitated. His hands rubbed the medicine into hers, careful not to be too firm, and several moments passed in silence until she could stand it no longer.

            “…I’m sorry,” she said at length. “For what I said yesterday. I didn’t mean…I didn’t realize how it might sound. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

            “Nor I, you,” he said. “You had no reason to know it would upset me; you simply believed as you were taught. The fact that you still accepted my input on the matter meant a great deal. And…perhaps I was unreasonably frustrated due to past experiences and projecting them onto you. Will you accept my apologies in exchange for your own?” He looked up at her as he reached for her other hand, and she smiled and nodded. When he caught himself gazing back at her a bit too closely, he cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. “To be honest, I did not expect your hands would be soft enough to be harmed by something like this.”

            “Because I’m a warrior?”

            “Yes. I assure you, Lady Cassandra’s hands are…tougher, shall we say.” She wondered vaguely whether he had ever touched Cassandra’s hands and if so, why.

            “I try to keep them this way,” she confessed. “I know it isn’t practical; my clanmates told me so often enough. They said that it was vanity on my part, a selfish frivolity…do you agree?”

            “Not at all. I would think keeping your hands sensitive would only make you more effective in battle. If they were blunted by callouses, it would be more difficult for you to detect important physical subtleties. And….” His fingertips moved lightly up to her palm to brush her inner wrist, causing her to shiver from the gentle sensation. “…you would be denied pleasures such as that.” She couldn’t answer, couldn’t meet his gaze, trying her best to hide the sudden rush of warmth coloring her cheeks. In a way, this was lucky for Solas, as well, as it kept her from seeing the faint flushing around his neck and ears. He’d no idea what had possessed him to suddenly become so bold—but neither did he regret it. Each was too embarrassed to speak again as he finished his task and used the bandages she had discarded to gently wrap her hands once he was done. “That should protect your hands until your gloves have been worn in properly. If they start to trouble you again, please don’t hesitate to ask my help.”

            “I won’t. Thank you. Again.” She was reluctant to take her hands back but realized that perhaps she had let them linger in his for a bit too long. His followed for just a moment as she pulled away, but they drew back quickly enough, and he stood.

            “As I said, it was my pleasure. But I should…let you rest.” He replaced the chair he had borrowed, pausing briefly at the door. “Good night, _lethallan_.”

            “Good night.” She sat in silent thought even after he was gone, gazing at her hands. They felt pleasantly cool, as opposed to the fire that had shot through them before. Considering that she had been too stubborn to speak to him, she was grateful he had noticed her distress on his own—though she had to wonder why he’d been observing her so closely to begin with.


	4. Versatility

            “Thank you for agreeing to come with me. I am…surprised at your enthusiasm,” he admitted as they walked, noting her careful scanning of the ground to find what they were looking for.

            “Why is that?” Allim’ir asked, seeming utterly delighted to be given a more peaceful objective. Though she still carried her sword (just in case), she was thoroughly invested in their task of gathering herbs for potions. “I used to do this with my clanmates all the time.” Thinking of her clan gave her a pang of longing, but she tried to instead focus on her search.

            “I didn’t realize. It was my understanding that you were a hunter.”

            “I was. But I was many other things, as well. Most of us play more than one role at any given time,” she explained. “I was a hunter, a gatherer, an assistant caretaker to the halla…occasionally a storyteller.”

            “Oh? And you haven’t joined Varric in spinning collaborative tales?” he asked, and she laughed.

            “Oh, my stories aren’t much like Varric’s. Not nearly as exciting. They were more like…fables. And usually in song.”

            “You sing, then?”

            “Look!” she said, disregarding his question and indicating a rocky cliff atop a nearby hill. It was rather steep, but she was already nimbly scaling it. “Do you see it? I’m certain there’s a patch of _tuthen_ at the top.” Solas followed after her, albeit a bit slower.

            “You prefer not to call it elfroot?” he asked, and she paused in her climb to look down at him, easily supporting herself with one hand secured in the rocks. Her strength didn’t go unnoticed, nor was it unappreciated.

            “We never called it that. I’m not sure why humans do. It…doesn’t bother you, does it?” Given she had already offended him with her Dalish pride, she was eager to avoid doing it again.

            “Of course not. I rarely have the chance to practice my Elvish with a native speaker; I appreciate the opportunity.” She reached the top before he did and offered him her hand. She pulled him up and to his feet, only holding onto his hand a moment longer than necessary before returning to their job.

            “We were lucky. This is exactly what we need,” she said, apparently very pleased with their fortunes. They both set about gathering the herbs, each smiling for a different reason.

            “You never answered my question,” he pointed out quietly.

            “I thought the answer was clear. Of course, I _can_ sing,” she said, delicate hands picking off each leaf so that the rest of the plant might survive. “But now, with all this—” She gestured toward the Breach in the distance. “—it’s been some time since I’ve had the opportunity. Fables and songs seem trivial in the face of a war.”

            “I disagree. If anything, the war makes our moments of levity even more important,” Solas argued. “Perhaps it is not my place to say so, but…you should consider making time for a song. Even if only for yourself. It might improve your morale more than you expect.” She smiled down at the leaves she had collected.

            “I will. Consider it, that is; I make no promises beyond that. Now come with me; I’m certain I saw a patch of _ethin’belanen_ around the lake near the Crossroads.”


	5. Images of Arlathan

            This time, the bell tower was the first place she looked. It was even darker than before, but her eyes were sensitive enough that she could more or less find her way. When she climbed up to the bell-ringer’s platform, sure enough, there was Solas, lying still and breathing slowly. He was lying on his back atop a blanket she couldn’t help feeling was rather thin. Perhaps he could use a new one?

            “Solas?” She didn’t touch him, unsure of how he might react, simply calling to him gently instead. “Solas. Do you plan to spend your entire night up here?” She was joking, but she realized that might well be the case. If it were, she shouldn’t wake him. Inexplicably disappointed, she began to leave—but he stirred just as she did.

            “Hm…Allim’ir?” he muttered as he sat up, blinking himself awake.

            “Er. _Aneth ara_. I’m sorry for disturbing you again—I didn’t…ahem, I’ll leave you be so you can—”

            “Wait,” he said, catching her hand before she could flee. The Mark on her palm tingled slightly in response to his magic. “Please, stay. Did you need something?”

            “Not…exactly,” she said, keeping very still. “I just…wanted to talk for a bit. I shouldn’t have interrupted your sleep for that.” Still, she was no longer trying to leave.

            “You needn’t concern yourself; I could do with a reprieve from the Fade. You might be surprised at how little _rest_ I get there,” he said, pulling gently at her hand. “Sit. I would be happy to talk. Was there a particular subject on your mind?”

            “Yes, actually.” She seated herself in front of him, cross-legged, resting her hands on her lap. With his assurance, she seemed to have relaxed, her mood improved. “We spoke about Arlathan once. I used to think that I knew so much of it, considering I had been taught for so long, but after what you said…I’ve wondered how much of my knowledge is really valid.” Hearing this brought a smile to his lips, as he very much enjoyed opportunities to share his knowledge, especially with someone who was genuinely interested.

            “I see. So you would like to…compare notes, as it were?” he suggested, and Allim’ir cocked her head to one side.

            “Something like that.”

            “Very well. Did you have a specific question?”

            “No,” she said. “It’s a bit vague, I’m afraid. I have this…image of the city in my mind, but since I’ve begun to doubt it lately, I wondered if you might be able to show me _yours_.” His brow furrowed in confusion.

            “I am not sure what you mean.”

            “Well…is there any way I can see it…the way that you do? Could you show me—or even just tell me—what it was really like? You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Or some part of it. Through the spirits in the Beyond.”

            “I have.” He was trying to decide how best to meet her request. Simply explaining seemed insufficient, since he had tried to do that before, and she remained unsatisfied. The simplest thing would be…but he had never tried that; even attempting it promised to be a challenge. But Solas was hardly opposed to a challenge. “There may be a way I can show you directly. Would you like to try dreaming with me?”

            “With you…? But I’m not a mage,” she pointed out, though she was clearly excited by the idea.

            “True enough, but I may be able to…bridge the gap between your dreaming state and mine,” he said, thinking aloud as he worked out the process in his mind. “You could not commune with spirts or experience memories as I do, but I believe I can show you my own perspective, if nothing else.”

            “All right,” she said quickly; she had never even considered this an option, but the idea of seeing it with her own eyes was too exciting to turn down. “That sounds wonderful. Can we try it now?” He couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness.

            “Yes. But you will have to go to sleep first.” Glad to do whatever was necessary, she began to lie down—but paused and stared at the cold and hard floor with a frown. Well, he couldn’t very well ask her to be uncomfortable; this had, after all, been his idea. So he took a moment to fold his blanket into a makeshift pillow and lay it in front of her. She smiled bashfully, as if embarrassed by the gesture.

            “Thank you,” she mumbled, lying down with her head at one end of the blanket. Once she seemed comfortable, Solas smoothed the process with a simple spell to put her to sleep. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he might accidentally push certain boundaries by lying next to her. There was a question of propriety, not only for her, but for himself. Still…as long as he was careful, it shouldn’t become an issue. Being sure to leave a reasonable distance between them, he lay his head on the opposite side of the blanket and, as he had just woken recently, easily went back to sleep.

            It was a delicate business, sharing dreams, knitting together one’s consciousness with another’s. But because he had his memories to draw on, building the environment was made easier—which only left the task of sharing it, meaning he had to find Allim’ir in her own dreams. Because they had gone to sleep in such close proximity, he only had to search the Fade for a short time before he found her in a group of a few other Dalish elves—presumably her clan. It was quite a change to see her in this setting, barefoot, wearing clothing that was clearly of Dalish make, rather than human. Most of all, her posture was different: she was fully relaxed and genuinely smiling; that was something he hadn’t seen, considering the circumstances under which they’d met.

            But he quickly realized that he was simply observing her dream and remembered they had other plans. As he approached her, the others didn’t seem to notice his presence—but she did, and she smiled at the sight of him. “I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but I have something to show you,” he reminded her, offering his hand to help her to her feet. For a moment, she seemed surprised that he had spoken at all. “Is something wrong?”

            “Hm? No,” she said, shaking her head and taking his hand so that he could help her up. “Let’s go.” Without either realizing it, their hands remained clasped as he led her away from her dream and into his. She only let go when they entered the city he had recreated, and her eyes grew wide.

            “Mythal,” she muttered, trying to take in as much as possible. But there was so much to see! Towers of gleaming crystal, intricately carved like the elven ruins her clan had visited in their travels, but new, clean, whole. Rather than clearing the land for their building, it seemed the ancient elves had simply built _around_ it; there were trees between buildings or lining the streets and pale, twisting vines growing up the walls. The city was populated with elves, but they weren’t at all like the elves she knew. They were taller, it seemed, prouder, long before centuries of war and subjugation. She was surprised by the lack of vallaslin, but that was hardly at the forefront of her mind. Many of them openly practiced magic, as well, whether for practical domestic purposes, for scholarly research, or simply for their own enjoyment. “I never realized…it’s beautiful. Are these…spirits you’ve met?”

            “Not precisely, though everything you see was shown to me by one spirit or another. What I am able to show you is simply my perception of what _I_ was shown,” he explained, admiring the view himself. “It is difficult to express everything purely through visual means, but perhaps I can tell you more—if you like.”

            “Please,” she agreed readily. “You said before that they all used magic, but this is…it’s like nothing I’ve seen before. It isn’t the same as just a _group_ of mages. Not even like the stories I’ve heard about the Circles. It’s just…a community. That _must_ be different.”

            “It was.” Something in his voice was profoundly remorseful as he led the way through the city, allowing Allim’ir to see everything. “This was the life of mages long before the imposition of the Circles—no Templars constantly watching, suspicious of their every move. No misguided elders teaching them to fear everything: themselves, their magic, any spirit they encountered. Yes, it was…very different.” Allim’ir was quiet for a moment as she observed the scene.

            “It sounds brilliant. Maybe that’s the reason more of our mages don’t look deeper into our past. It makes the present feel…lacking.” She realized it was likely that Solas wished he could have lived at that time; perhaps he would have been more at home among other scholars and mages of his caliber.

            “That may be,” he agreed distractedly. Farther toward the city’s center, they came to a grand temple dedicated to Elgar’nan. It was more striking than any Chantry she’d seen, a worthy tribute to their gods, with devout worshipers gathered in prayer and reverence.

            “Oh.” She paused in the courtyard before a towering statue of the All-Father himself with Mythal at his side, in awe of the skill that must have gone into its crafting. So much of this had been lost to them; it almost made her angry with her people for claiming to know of “the ancient ways,” when…they had no idea. “Temples like this hardly exist anymore.”

            “I’m afraid that is correct. Many elves have abandoned the gods of Elvhenan for the Maker—or were simply never exposed to them at all,” Solas agreed, sharing in her dismay…to a point. “But I have seen the fervent belief of our ancestors and know that there was no doubt within their minds. They understood their gods more than any current faith can claim…for better or worse.”

            “What do you mean by that?” she asked. He glanced at her sidelong for only a moment before turning his gaze back toward the statue as if meticulously studying the details of Mythal’s face.

            “As most creatures, mortal or otherwise, these gods were never purely one thing or another, neither good nor evil. Not the Creators and not the Forgotten Ones,” he explained, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed a bit distant as he spoke, almost as if to himself. “As such, they were unpredictable: benign one moment, harsh and vengeful the next. And mortals caught between them had little choice but to acquiesce or…suffer the consequences of offending a god.”

            “I’ve…never heard it put quite like that,” Allim’ir said, able to feel the decline of his mood in the Fade around them. If it was shaped by his perception, could his sudden discontent…put them in danger? When he heard the tone in her voice and saw that she looked a bit shaken, Solas smiled, and the weight in the air lifted.

            “Forgive me; I have spent so much time with spirits related to this age that I may empathize with them a bit more than necessary at times,” he said. “This is, of course, only my reflection of their reflection. How much of it is truly based in fact remains in question.”

            “Do you…wish you could’ve been there? Here? In Arlathan, that is,” she muttered. “I’m sure you would’ve preferred to have seen it with your own eyes. It sounds like you would have been more at-home among these people—our ancestors—than people like…like most modern elves.” _People like me._

            “Hardly,” he answered, drawing her eyes back toward him. “Make no mistake, _lethallan_ , though I enjoy seeing scenes such as this in memory, I recognize them as such. The past is past, and I know my place.”

            “And where is that?” she asked, tilting her head a bit to the side. Of course, she had an answer in mind….

            “With the Inquisition, of course.” Not exactly what she was hoping to hear, but close. “Helping to seal the Breach and restore peace.” He chuckled and added, “Or making my best efforts to do so.”

            “You are,” she insisted. “You’ve been a great help on so many occasions; I’m certain it would be…much harder, if possible at all, if you weren’t there.” Another few seconds of silence.

            “I’m pleased to know my presence has been helpful. Please do not fear that you might be forced to go on without me; I have no intention of abandoning you.” She turned away to hide her smile, folding her hands behind her back.

            “Is there more?” she asked.

            “Ah, of course.” Suddenly hoping he hadn’t said too much, he beckoned her away from the temple and the town center. The population thinned the farther they walked, until they came to a particularly large group of trees, undivided by any buildings. Even the trees themselves attested the city’s beauty, pale and spindly, delicate as if they had been crafted rather than grown. Among them, there were only two elves, a man and a woman. The woman knelt on the ground, tending a patch of young blossoms while her companion simply looked on. “Their relationship with Nature was far more intimate than ours. Their magic allowed each of them to commune directly with the flora and fauna they encountered, wherever they went.”

            “Oh…if ever there were a moment I wished to be a mage….” Allim’ir mused, longing to even _see_ these trees in person, much less _speak_ with them. Even among her own clan, she had always felt a particularly strong connection to Nature. Of course, she had no way of hearing or seeing the spirits that dwelled in the forests through which they had passed, but it was undeniable how comfortable and at peace she felt among the “flora and fauna” Solas had mentioned. “But it’s magic. Can you not recreate something like it?”

            “I have attempted to do so more than once. Perhaps I can speak with a particular spirit that happens to be present, even spirits who have dwelled with the same trees for a hundred years, but the soul of the forest itself is lost to even me,” he explained as the kneeling elf called the other over to see her work. “Their communion was not a conscious effort or a particular spell; much like their immortality, it simply _was_. Just as their magic was so thoroughly integrated into their nature, so was their kinship with the land.” She couldn’t help feeling it sounded terribly poetic when said that way. Whether he realized it or not, his eloquence often lent itself in that direction.

            “Kinship,” she repeated. “How….” She paused to watch the scene before them develop. As the two elves knelt over the flowers, they slowly bloomed, one after another. The woman seemed delighted, but her companion wasn’t looking at the flowers. Instead, he was watching her thoughtfully. He reached out to let his fingers brush her cheek, leading her closer—and then the scene dissipated, and Allim’ir found herself waking again in the Haven Chantry.

            Solas was already awake and on his feet, refusing to look at her and trying to calm his heart; images from the Fade did, of course, reflect the feelings of those present, particularly of the dreamer in question. Since he had shown her his own perception—it may have been a bit too entangled with his own feelings. And he was right to assume Allim’ir had noticed the sudden change in his attitude.

            “Was there a particular reason you wanted to know more of Arlathan? Now, that is?” he asked in an attempt to change the subject.

            “Yes. We talked about my fables,” she said, sitting up and stretching from their brief nap. “I’ve been thinking of writing a new one. I thought it might be nice to tell a story of something completely outside of this…mess we’re in at the moment. What do you think?”

            “I would like to hear it. Particularly if my knowledge has helped at all.” Having finally composed himself, he returned to sit before her. “Have you considered what you might write about?”

            “Loss,” she said, gazing down at her own hands. “And Love. I don’t want to say too much, but I’ve wondered how they must have felt when things began to…change. It must have been frightening.”

            “If what I have seen has been any indication, it was.”

            “But I like to think they helped each other through it. That everyone had _something_ holding her together, even if it was just a single loved one.” She smoothed her doublet of wrinkles and added, “Have you seen anything like that?”

            “…I have not.” His eyes gazed, unfocused, at the wooden boards below them as he thought back on the memories he’d seen. He soon had to stop for fear of becoming too engrossed in his own mental workings. “But my experience is hardly all-encompassing; they were thinking, feeling beings, temporal circumstances notwithstanding. I can only imagine that they supported one another in their time of fear and instability. As we try to do now.”

            “It’s different,” she said, shaking her head. “They were all one people, experiencing the same thing. Thedas is so divided now; every race, every clan or country or family has its own view of the situation. The humans don’t trust the elves, the mages don’t trust the Templars, the dwarves and the Dalish don’t trust anyone…so many of us willfully stay separated from the others, even when we all face the same threat.” She paused, realizing she had gotten carried away. Frowning sadly, she pulled her knees up to her chest. “It’s different.”

            “…I suppose so,” Solas answered, recognizing that now was perhaps not the time for a history lesson. “But I believe that every person in this town trusts _you_ without question. I, for one, know that you value life too much to allow any to be wasted, regardless of its difference from your own.” His mind wandered back to the elf in his dream, the one who had nurtured the flowers so gently. It often struck him as odd that Allim’ir was such an adept warrior, considering how highly she regarded Life in general.

            “I’m trying,” she said quietly.

            “And that in itself is admirable. You’ve taken on a great deal of responsibility, arguably by chance. Yet you accept it fully and risk your life for the cause. That is one of the reasons we so willingly follow your lead.”

            “Why else?” He paused for a moment before responding.

            “I cannot speak for everyone, naturally, but _I_ trust your judgment. You somehow manage to be both immensely compassionate and still reasonable. Both of those things are valuable in a position such as yours, as well as being in short supply in the rest of the world.” She didn’t speak for a few moments.

            “Is there…any other reason?” Her very blue eyes turned toward him, and he suddenly wondered if she might be looking for a particular answer.

            “Ah. I…admit I have found that there are many worse places to be than by your side or at your back,” he said, speaking matter-of-factly as if to distance himself from the embarrassment that came with a conversation like this. After so long, he worried he might somehow say the wrong thing. But when he dared to glance in her direction, she was avoiding his eyes but smiling, so he must have said something right.

            “I’m glad you feel that way, since I so rarely leave without you.”

            “And is there a reason for _that_?”

            “…yes,” she said simply. He waited for further explanation but was surprised to see her stand, instead. “But I’ve taken up enough of your time for one night!”

            “You…what?” By the time he managed to answer, she had already reached the ladder, and he hurried to his feet her pursue her. “Please wait. Why are you—”

            “I’m sorry,” she said, sliding down to the floor and glancing up at him anxiously. “We’ll…talk later, all right?” He wanted to chase her, to ask her to explain herself, but the obvious distress in her expression stopped him. Had he done something wrong after all? Had he made her uncomfortable? She’d seemed to be looking for more from his answer, yet she was already fleeing down the stairs. He didn’t understand. He _hated_ it when he couldn’t understand something. But he reminded himself that she had always been an unknown, and if there were anything he truly loved, it was an opportunity to learn.

            But if she had run away, perhaps she didn’t feel the same?  Perhaps he should have been more careful? These were questions he couldn’t answer alone, and asking her about it now seemed completely out of the question; if it was a delicate matter before, it was held by a thread now, and he couldn’t risk breaking it. For the moment, his only option was to simply _wait_. Wait until _she_ brought the subject up again. In the meantime, he would keep his own responses strictly platonic.

            Well aware that he would be unable to return to his dreams after _that_ , he began to gather his things to leave the tower—only to discover with chagrin that his blanket smelled like Allim’ir’s hair. Perfect. That was sure to affect his dreams for days….


	6. Informal invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It should be noted that between chapters 5 and 6, we have In Hushed Whispers, In Your Heart Shall Burn, and All New, Faded for Her. So, the romance has advanced quite a lot by this point. At least to the point of being "official." I may or may not add extra chapters dealing with that period later.

            “Nh! Be c…careful,” she gasped, tensing as his fingers grazed the wound above her right hip. The demon that had caused it had torn right through her chainmail and left an impressive, albeit not life-threatening gash, which Solas was still in the process of healing.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I am afraid the healing process will not be a pleasant one.”

            “Mmph. I know. I just—hss!” She covered her mouth and whimpered from the sting of an herbal poultice against the wound. “Hh…it hurts…more than I expected.” He brushed her cheek gently with the back of his hand, and she managed a weak blush.

            “Relax,” he advised. “I intend to do everything in my power to have you healed as soon as possible.” She smiled and tried to sit up—but let out a frustrated groan and gingerly lay back down. Instead, she took hold of his shirt and dragged him down for a firm kiss. When she released him, pleased to see him breathless, she smiled sweetly.

            “Thank you,” she said, carefully shifting in bed to try to get comfortable.

            “Ahem. _Ma nuvenin_ ,” he muttered. He did his best to focus on the task at hand, though her soft panting and arching her back was a bit of a distraction. However, he did manage to clean and bind the injury, intent on easing her pain however possible. “…you should be more careful.”

            “Careful? I had no choice; they were going after Vivienne. She _asked_ for help. I couldn’t have ignored her,” she argued, not mentioning that if Vivienne were in danger, Solas would be, as well. She couldn’t stand for that.

            “Perhaps not. I only hope you will take care in the future. There are a great many people here who need you.”

            “Hm. If I didn’t know how true that is, I might think you were being romantic,” she laughed. “I’m sorry. Maybe leaving myself so vulnerable wasn’t the _best_ strategy.”

            “You? Vulnerable? I can hardly imagine such a thing.” As he stood, he ever-so casually ran his fingertips across her hips, drawing out a soft gasp from her lips, immediately followed by an intense pout.

            “Mmm, don’t tease me,” she mumbled, catching his hand and pulling him back. “Come here.” As was often the case, he did as she said, this time treated to a longer and more deliberately thorough kiss. He soon realized she had no intention of releasing him, so he moved to sit on the bed, resting over her on one hand.

            “Hmh, Allim’ir,” he said, reluctantly breaking away from her. “As much as I would like to stay, you shouldn’t be…straining yourself in this state.”

            “Don’t go,” she begged. “Please. Spend the night here, with me. I won’t ask for any more—I just want your company.” Though she asked as if it were a request, her hold on his arm suggested there was only one acceptable answer. Not that he was eager to refuse her.

            “Well,” he said. “It has been rather cold in my study as of late.”

            “As luck would have it, I happen to know just the remedy for that.”

            “I believe you do,” he laughed. “I will stay, _vhenan_. Just give me a moment.” Just as it did every time he said it, her chest warmed from hearing that pet name, and she watched him put out the candles he’d been using to light his work. The flames in the fireplace had already died down to dimly-glowing embers to be relit the following morning. He lay at her left side, since she insisted on being closest to the stairs, with her sword within arm’s reach; the Inquisition, it seemed, had taught her that dropping her guard was a luxury she could not afford. Careful of her injury, she moved closer into his arms, finding his hand to pull it over her waist.

            “See?” she muttered. “Not cold at all. You should sleep here every night.” He smiled in the dark and moved closer.

            “Is that a formal invitation?”

            “I thought it was very _in_ formal. But it certainly was an invitation.” She sat up to kiss his cheek—and her tongue playfully brushed his ear.

            “Ahem. I will…be sure to consider it,” he said, tightening his hold on her slightly.

            “See that you do.” She kissed his lips again, softly, briefly. “Good night, _tu’eren_.”

            “Good night.”


	7. No sacrifices, no compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a direct continuation of chapter 6.

            As so rarely happened, he woke to find her still sleeping. She was an early riser to begin with, and since he preferred to remain in the Fade when he could, she often had to wake him. Still, it seemed the previous day had fully exhausted her, and he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her rest. Brushing her hair aside, he placed a kiss on her cheek, just below her _vallaslin_ , before leaving the bed to ready himself for the day. As he bathed, he took mental stock of their schedule, of what they had already accomplished and what still need be addressed. His mind invariably led him back to Allim’ir, to the shadows beneath her eyes, which she deftly countered with a smile, to the way she had been drifting off before even removing her armor lately. He frowned at the knowledge of how hard she pushed herself each day, wondering if he might mix some sort of tonic that would help.

            While he was redressing, he began to hear her stirring and sitting up in bed. She made the softest questioning sound, and he started on his way to greet her—but broke into a run when he heard her voice, still groggy but strained with fear, frantically calling his name. He came back into the room to find her sitting up in the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly, wide-eyed and panicked. When she saw him there, she immediately started to cry, covering her mouth with both hands and struggling in vain to catch her breath. Solas was at her side in a moment, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close. She returned the gesture and sobbed into his shoulder, nearly hyperventilating with panic. He had never seen her so distressed.

            “ _Hamin, vhenan_.” He spoke to her softly in Elvish, hoping he might calm her. “ _Daratisha. Emma s’an; ma’dareth_.”

            “ _Nae_ ,” she gasped, shaking her head. “ _Tel’mir. Madar din—nae! Nae…emma isala ma_.”

            “But I’m here,” he said gently. “Look at me. There is nothing wrong. You have assured that yourself.” It took a moment for her to answer, but he waited patiently.

            “I know. It’s not…I had a dream. A _nightmare_ ,” she said, not loosening her hold on him, though her breath was beginning to normalize. “It was…we never really talked about it. What I saw in Redcliffe.”

            “You mean…the future you prevented?” She shook her head again.

            “It happened. I _saw_ it. I saw you….” She trailed of and relaxed heavily against him.

            “What did you see?” It was true they hadn’t discussed it much beyond the technical aspects of the magic involved. If it was upsetting her so, perhaps he should have inquired further about _what_ exactly she had prevented. For a moment, she was quiet, as if she were reluctant to think on it any longer than necessary. Finally, she let out a deep sigh and released her grip around his neck but still kept his hand tightly in hers.

            “Dorian and I came through Alexius’s…time rift in a dungeon beneath the castle. We found you and Sera there, captive. There was red lyrium everywhere. You…both of you were…I don’t know. Sick.” She was staring down at the bed, legs curled up to her chest. “When we told you what we thought had happened, you seemed to understand right away. You told me you were dying. Simply, as if it didn’t matter at all. You were more concerned with acting against Alexius. Against Corypheus. I…kissed you once you were free.”

            “Oh?” he asked. “But at that time, you and I weren’t—”

            “I know,” she laughed weakly. “I wanted to explain, but there was no time. You said, ‘tell me when you return.’ Once then, and again before you left.”

            “Left? To where did I leave?” Again, she frowned and curled in on herself a bit more.

            “Dorian needed time for the spell that would bring us back. He and I had to stay in place, but there were demons storming the castle. You…Sera…Leliana…you defended us,” she explained. “You left, and…we all knew what would happen. You left, and I could do _nothing_ to protect you. And when they broke through, I saw you….” She pressed her face into his shoulder again to stifle a sob. Running his fingers slowly through her hair, Solas tried to let all of this sink in. So he had…given his life to protect her, to give her the chance to repair all that had been destroyed by Corypheus. If he thought about exactly when it had happened, he knew he already cared for her more than she knew.

            “But you have—that is, you _are_ keeping me from that fate, even now. I told you before that I would not abandon you. Your actions are helping me to keep that promise.” He pulled away and tilted her head up toward him, fingertips brushing her chin. “But should I be called upon to do so, I would happily give my life for yours again.” To his surprise, she frowned and pushed him roughly away.

            “Do you think that’s what I want?” she demanded. “Were you listening to me at all? _Fenehdis_ …!”

            “I…do not understand why that upsets you. I care for you, and I know that you are far more vital to the Inquisition than I—”

            “ _Nae_!” she snapped again. “That _isn’t_ why I’m doing this. To see the ones I love die for my sake? If I can’t protect even my own loved ones, how can I be expected to defend half of Thedas? No…I need you _here_. I will never ask you to make that choice—and if anyone else does, tell them no. Tell them I’ve seen myself through the Fade and back; I’ll save my own life. If I should ever come back to find you gone, I….” She trailed off, allowing him to move closer and hold her again.

            “I understand,” he said. “I do not doubt you, _vhenan_ , nor will I allow anyone else to do so.” Satisfied she’d made her point, she allowed herself a small smile.

            “Good.” She moved to kiss him, but he stopped her with a finger against her lips.

            “You said that I asked you to explain yourself upon your return.” She cowed slightly and looked away. “Yet you did not. Why is that?”

            “There wasn’t time,” she said. “Once we returned, we left so soon to seal the Breach—I planned to tell you that night, but then there were the Templars and with all the panic of fleeing Haven…I didn’t have a moment alone with you.”

            “And I very nearly lost you and would never have known.”

            “Don’t be silly. You should know by now that I won’t die so easily.”

            “All the same, next time, I would prefer to know sooner rather than later, if you please.” She smiled sweetly and leaned in very close.

            “Solas?” Caught off-guard by the sudden change in her attitude, he tensed and swallowed reflexively.

            “Yes?” It seemed to be a favorite trick of hers to drape her arms over his shoulders and speak very softly into his ear. Perhaps she had realized how much it affected him.

            “Have I ever told you how much I enjoy your company?” Because he was still shirtless from his bath and her thin nightclothes left little to the imagination, his spine stiffened as her chest pressed against his.

            “Ahem. You…may have made implications in that direction,” he answered, sliding one hand around her back and making his best effort to maintain his dignity; even if the idea immediately came to mind, she wouldn’t make him beg so easily.

            “Oh, so I haven’t been clear enough?” she asked as she crawled into his lap, fingertips trailing down the back of his neck. “And I thought you’d said you don’t doubt me.”

            “Because I do not. You are the one questioning it; perhaps _you_ feel you have a point to make,” he suggested. Leaning back on his free hand, he added, “If that is the case, I would be glad to hear it.”

            “I’m sure you would.” Disappointed that he’d countered her original tactic, she abandoned it for a more straightforward approach. She shoved him down onto the bed and captured his lips, her body resting flush against his. He took her advance in stride, content to be passive for the moment if she so desired. When her hips pressed down against his, however, he was forced to break their kiss for a soft gasp. “Hm. Is something wrong, _tu’eren_?”

            “At the moment?” His fingers threaded through her hair to lead her back down. “Nothing at all.” Before their lips could meet again, however, there was a loud knocking at the door downstairs.

            “My Lady, are you awake? Seeker Pentaghast is looking for you.”

            “Yes, they do that, don’t they?” she muttered before calling back, “Thank you; tell her I’ll only be a few minutes.” She sighed dejectedly as she got to her feet, leaving Solas to blink and try to recover. “I suppose I have some…‘inquisiting’ to do. And just as the conversation was getting interesting.”

            “I’m sure we’ll be able to continue it…at…another time.” He looked up just in time to see her pull her shirt off and toss it aside as she left to change clothes. With a resigned groan, he fell back against the bed, hoping that time would come, as he’d said, sooner rather than later.


	8. Explain yourself

            “Why is this so difficult lately?” the Inquisitor asked, frowning as she picked the leaves from a lone stalk of elfroot. “It can’t just be the snow. How much could we have gathered already?”

            “You might be surprised. I spoke recently with our new apothecary, and the number of injuries the Inquisition has had to treat was…well, considering our ever-growing forces, I suppose it is to be expected,” Solas said, adding a few embrium petals to his own meager collection.

            “What will we do if we can’t find enough?” Allim’ir asked, shivering as she knelt in the snow. “We have to keep our healers well-supplied. We may have to import the herbs from elsewhere. That’s more gold we’ll have to earn. Maybe if Harritt has weapons we don’t need, we could—or if we spoke to the other Dalish clans in the area, they might—” He cut off her string of nervous suggestions with a hand on her shoulder.

            “ _Hamin_. _If_ we should have need, I’m sure Lady Montilyet would find a way to secure the resources we lack. Remember it isn’t your duty to solve every potential problem the Inquisition may face on your own.” He brought her chilled fingers up to his lips and kissed them, drawing a sigh of relief from her lips.

            “I know. I would just prefer to solve the problem before it actually arises,” she said.

            “For the moment, try not to worry yourself over matters such as this. It will only serve to put undue pressure on you, which you hardly need.”

            “I will. Try, that is; I make no promises beyond that.” She sat up to kiss his cheek; she took every opportunity for these small acts of affection when they were alone, since it wasn’t often appropriate in the company of others. “ _Ma serannas, tu’eren_.”

            “Why—” he paused as they both get to their feet to continue their search. Leading the way down the hill on which they stood, she looked askance at him. “Why do you call me that? I have never heard the term before.” And that was saying something.

            “Well, you wouldn’t. It’s just you,” she answered.

            “But why? The meaning is simple enough—” Being a combination of “ _tu_ ,” to make or cause, and “ _eren_ ,” stories, or, in this case, dreams. “—but why use it for me? Because I am a mage? Because I showed you visions in the Fade?” His tone of objective curiosity only made her feel sillier for the sentimentality of her answer.

            “Whether you realized it or not, _sa’lath_ …you made dreams for me long before we came to Skyhold.”

            “In Haven, you mean? In the Chantry?” he asked, but she shook her head.

            “Before that.”

            “Then…how long before?” he asked, now curious for a different reason. She considered as she spotted another small patch of elfroot and started toward it.

            “The first time must have been the night you held my hands when they were burning.” Her soft tone surprised both of them, and she could feel her cheeks warming. “When you were concerned for me even when you knew I was angry, when you had no obligation…yet there you were. That night, I dreamed of holding your hands again.” He was watching her, listening with a thoughtful smile.

            “You said that was the first. Meaning there were others?”

            “Just a few. Most often, nothing actually happened. We sat and looked at the stars or…walked the forests in the Hinterlands with bare feet and no demons to spoil it. I always knew it was a dream, because you didn’t speak. But I was content with the silence and…with you holding my hand.” She didn’t dare look at him, certain he was going to tease her. When he spoke, he sounded amused.

            “You remember them, then?” After a confused pause, she looked up at him to find him smirking smugly, and she blinked at him in shock.

            “You…that was really _you_?!” He couldn’t help but laugh at the stunned look on her face.

            “It may have been,” he said casually, going about their task with little regard to his dumbfounded lover. “I was not sure whether you would recall; you never spoke of them, so I assumed you had forgotten upon waking.”

            “So, you…were seeking me out on purpose? Just to hold my hand and spend time with me?” At that rather apt summary of his motivations, his smile slipped a bit.

            “Ah. I…suppose I was,” he laughed. “I did not speak because I was satisfied with those few moments of peace to enjoy your presence. And you were not prompting me with questions. I was pleased simply to be with you.”

            “ _Ma harel_. You should have told me,” she mumbled, still pouting.

            “I apologize. Though it may gratify you to know that you did surprise me when you sought me out yourself. In that case, you were all but asking me to make a dream for you.”

            “And you took full advantage of the opportunity,” she answered, throwing him a glance and showing him her tongue.

            “Inquisitor, are you suggesting my intentions were anything but pure?” he asked in mock indignation, and she rolled her eyes. “Forgive me for saying so, but you have never before complained of having me by your side at night, whether dreaming or—” He was interrupted as a snowball collided with the side of his head. After taking a moment to register what had happened and recover from the shock, he looked sharply over at Allim’ir to see her badly concealing her laughter, batting her eyes at him sweetly.

            “We should really be focusing on our work, don’t you think, _tu’eren_?” She followed her own suggestion, sneaking a glance up at him now and then while he debated on how best to take his revenge. Only a moment later, he waved a hand in her direction, calling up a gust of wind and sending a flurry of snow down the front of her shirt. The shriek he received in return was all the satisfaction he needed, so he did as she said.

            “You are absolutely right, _vhenan_ ; I shall try not to let my mind wander.”


End file.
